


Dance Partner

by Thesuspiciousflyingjellyfish



Category: Final Fantasy XV, Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Gen, Meet-Cute, Oc is a demi-god, Statues and Sculptures, This is an au I will expand on, Vaguely inspired by that one scene from pride and prejudice, but how did she get to the FFXV universe?, but not for a veeeeery long time, museum, ooooo, where lizzy is looking at statues at darcy’s place
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:40:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24731722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thesuspiciousflyingjellyfish/pseuds/Thesuspiciousflyingjellyfish
Summary: Set in an au that I’m going to expand on one day, here is the scene that inspired it all, and I really needed to get it out.Nyx is 19, and in a museum. Looking for his missing friend, he comes across a room of marble statues, and enters a small conversation on love and loss.
Relationships: Nyx Ulric/Original Character(s), Nyx Ulric/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 10





	Dance Partner

**Author's Note:**

> So I should definitely be sleeping or writing the next chapter for my current fic, but I reeeeealy needed this out of my head. It’s a small snippet from a future crossover fic of an oc demigod in the ffxv world. To not spoil too much for the future story, the demigod is there on a quest, and her parent is probs obvious, but I will reveal at the end.

Boot clad feet stride through a busy museum, twisting out of the way of standing observers of paintings and other artwork. The floor is a rich wooden brown, and the walls are a cream colour. The 19 year old Nyx Ulric has lost his companion, and though not frantic, he is moving faster than his usual meandering pace, when normally looking at the displayed pieces of art. With a no entry fee, the museum is a perfect place for someone bored and poor.

As he curses the loss of whereabouts of his friend, Nyx turns down a less busy hallway that leads to a dead end. At the end is a large painting with a small bench for viewing, but it’s empty so there is no point in going down to check. But as he turns to go back the way he came, he spots a small sign about mid way down the hall he just turned.

‘ _Marble Statues and Sculpture Gallery_ ’ pointing to a room just off the hallway.

With a shrug and a sigh, he heads down and turns right into the entrance to the gallery, and-

_Freezes_.

The room shows off tall, arched ceilings, with wide open floor length glass windows at the far end of the room, allowing bright sunlight to filter in. And dotted through out, is bright white statues and marble head busts on stands. The sunlight reflects off the stone, causing the room the be painted in a warm yellow and white glow. But it’s not just the clear purity of the artwork that the gallery gives off that has him frozen.

It’s the figure in the middle. At first, he assumes it’s another statue, with the skin pale like chalk and hair just as white. As she moves though, he stares transfixed as a small, private smile crawls across her face and she reaches her hand out to the statue she is facing.

The statue looks to be of a woman, who is reaching out to something or someone in desperation. Contrasting the sorrow of the female statue, the girl, who must be somewhere in her late teens, maybe his age if a little younger, places her hand gently into the statue’s, and does an elegant, if a little over the top curtsy. Delicately taking the skirt of her lavender blue dress and going down low, before rising.

“She would make a _terrible_ dance partner.”

The girl starts, hand snatching away from the statue, balling into a tight fist to her chest, and twists to look at him. Eyes wide, and mouth pursed, the teen waits for him to do something. 

He himself is surprised, not expecting him to blurt out anything, ruining a picturesque moment. But, he’s already opened his mouth, might as well continue.

Walking into the room, he stops about 3 feet away from her, not wanting to encroach into her personal space, but close enough to get a better look at her and not need to raise his voice. Though with how empty and echoing the room is, it wouldn’t be that hard to hear him speak.

Closer, he is able to see that it’s not the light that makes her as white as cotton. She is naturally that colour-less. Her hair, her eyebrows, even the lashes that grace her cheeks as she blinks bewildered and mildly cautious up at him. Besides her clothes and slightly pink lips, the only thing about her that is full of colour is her eyes. Like kaleidoscopes, flecks of blues, greens, never settling on one colour. They’re confusing but spectacular. The rest of her is slim, and neat. Most likely a high society lady, not knowing how to interact with someone from a lower station. But he can’t deny the soft beauty that she holds.

The girl bites her lip briefly before replying back to him.

“...I thought she would make a fine partner.”

Her voice is as equally soft as he expected, but with a strange accent. An undertone of a southern drawl, like those out in Liede’s desert.

Crooking an eyebrow he makes an exaggerated show of contemplation as he surveys the statue, before giving an equally exaggerated woeful shake of his head. “No, she would be too stiff of a partner. Would cause you to trip no doubt, what with her singular foot.” He declares, pointing at said statue’s missing foot.

Blinking, a bit startled at this sudden conversation the girl was probably not expecting, she looks down at the statue and snorts. Hand coming up to her mouth, she bursts out a sharp laugh at his terrible jokes. Soft giggles then peel from her lips as she stares up at him with crinkled eyes, dancing with amusement.

Nyx joins in, giving a low chuckle, hand coming up to rub at the back of neck, a little embarrassed at conversing with a pretty girl. As her laughter dies, she holds out her hand in a shake and a slight smirk turning her lips upwards.

“Could I have the name of my new dance partner then?”

Reaching out, he shakes her pale hand with his own tanned hand. Weirdly enough, despite her appearance of an upper-class, pampered girl, her hands were calloused. As if she has had experience with weapons. The confusion is stored for later as he replies.

“Nyx. And you?”

Giving him a bemused look at his response, she replies, “Orphea.”

Taking his hand away, frowning, he mutters back, “You’re giving me a weird look. I know the name isn’t exactly common in Insomnia but-“

“No!” She exclaims, hands coming up in defence, waving slightly. “It’s just, where I’m from, that’s the name of a god.” 

Blinking, this time he is the one bewildered. “Really?” Tone curious.

Twisting her hands together nervously, she nods, eager to show she isn’t trying to offend him. “Ah, yeah. Nyx is a primordial goddess, or a personification, of the night. She is a super old one, being around the beginning of creation.”

Whistling, he feels a little impressed at knowing he shares a name with one of her gods. “That’s pretty cool. Never heard of her really, just the Astrals, and the Dawn Mother that the Galahdian’s, my people, worship.”

Nodding again, Orpheia elaborates, “Well, where I’m from we have a lot of gods. Honestly I lose track of them after the main 14.”

Frowning, confused he enquires. “Where are you from then?”

Hands stop twisting and she looks to the side, a melancholic look settles across her pale features. Her voice has turned slightly wistful. “Not Eos. I was travelling on a boat when there was a storm and I washed up here.”

His frown is one of sympathy, understanding where she is coming from. “And you can’t get back?”

“No.”

“Oh. Um, sorry.” He feels a little awkward at this depressing turn of events

Trying to reassure him she exclaims quickly, “It’s fine! Don’t worry about it. It was a couple of years ago, I’m okay.” She gives him a beaming smile, before giving a small spin and changes the subject, “So! Do you have a favourite statue?”

He shrugs, willing the go along with the abrupt conversation change. “Have never been here, so not really no. You?”

Her eyes light up and she moves quickly, further into the room pointing, Looking like she would grab his hand and drag him if they weren’t practically strangers. “Yeah! Let me show you!” Grinning, he follows after her excited figure.

She gets to the statue before him, and is bouncing on the balls of her feet, unable to fully contain her enthusiasm as she waits for him to arrive. Stepping next to her bouncing form he studies the marble figures.

It’s two people this time. A man and a woman. They were in a twisted embrace, with the man kneeling, holding the drooping figure of the woman. Her hand is cupping his face with such tenderness that it contrasted the man’s expression, which shows such wretched agony and pain. Expression twisted, unable to keep in the desperation he is feeling at trying to keep his lover alive. The woman has a face of soft peace, already accepting her faint, and is staring at her man, as if trying to capture and remember everything about him before she dies. Like most statues, they are nude with only thin marble clothes covering them in a parody of a funeral shroud. Her other hand, as limp as the rest of her body, loosely holds a dagger, the weapon that is the reason she dying. A tragedy frozen in time. 

It’s such a sorrowful piece, that he sends Orphea a disconcerted look at her excitement for it. Noticing his expression she falters. “Okay, I know it’s super depressing, but it’s actually so beautiful if you think about it!” Dashing around the back so her face appears next to the man’s marble shoulder and over the woman’s cradled body.

Earnest, she dives into her reason. “I’ve _always_ been a romantic, it comes from my mother. Romance in all forms is so moving, but _tragedy_ is one of my favourites. The drama and loss in stories when two lover’s are separated by death. And that loss of a loved one is something that everyone experiences at least once in their lives. So they are able to empathise with any kind of artwork that reflects it. Those last moments that are shared are so important, _especially_ for the one who _survives_. It’s those last moments which the living one will carry on with, and hold close, for ever imprinted in their minds and hearts.” As she finishes her speech, Orphea comes around to look closely at the man’s face, and her voice fades into a faint sorrowful tone.

A part of Nyx feels like he is intruding in on something private, but that disappears when she looks back at him with a soft smile. “Sharing sadness is important to move on though, and holding onto those emotions isn’t _always_ the best. Why only remember their last moments and the feelings that go with it, when you have the _entire past_ to look back on instead! The dead wouldn’t want those they loved to be miserable and only think of their death, and become fixated on emotions like vengeance or grief. It’s hard in a time of war, but that’s why you need to surround yourself with more love. It’s such a powerful emotion, and to be without it leaves life... _diminished_.”

His face is slack with wonder at her introspective thoughts. He himself has been burdened with many loved one’s last moments, and Orphea sharing her thoughts, based around what are _definitely, very real_ experiences for this girl. It’s almost inspirational. He looks back at the statue, this time from her perspective.

Standing in pondering silence for a few moments, he breaks it. “Does your name have a meaning?” She starts, jerking her head away from the figures and looks wide eyed at him. “What makes you ask that?”

With a casual shrug he explains, “Well, you told me my apparent name meaning. Do you know yours?”

Orphea hums, and rocks back a bit on her heals, before turning. She begins a small stroll around the statues, and Nyx follows after. “Actually yes. It’s based on a legend. I have the female version of the name Orpheus, which is related to the word ’orphne‘, meaning ‘the darkness of the night’. But the legend goes that Orpheus was a talented poet and musician, and when his wife, Eurydice, died he charmed the underworld’s entrance open and managed to convince the god and king of the underworld to allow him bring his wife’s soul back to her body. The only condition was that on the stairwell walk back to the land of the living, he wasn’t allowed to look back until they reached the surface.” Here she pauses, and looks at a statue of a woman sleeping on a large rock. Then wetting her lips, she continues, tone a little mournful.

“When they were just at the entrance, he couldn’t help but look back to check and to see if she followed him up. But he broke the rule, and as he looks at her face again one last time, she was dragged back to the underworld.”

A soft silence settles between them, and she meets his gaze, waiting for his assessment on her explanation.

Stuffing his hands into his jeans, he clears his throat and looks to the side.

“That’s _also_ super depressing. Is that your goal? To make me sad in revenge for interrupting your dance with Miss Stump Foot back there?” He point behind them at said stumpy statue.

Snorting again she denies through her laughter. “ _No!_ No I _promise_! I’m sorry for all the sad shit I’ve just thrown your way.” Giving him a self-deprecating smile she folds her grey cardigan arms over her chest. “Bet you were looking for better conversation than to hear me ramble about tragedy.”

Now it’s his turn to feel bad. Hesitantly, he gently touches her arm before dropping it, not wanting to make her uncomfortable, but still wanting to reassure this girl.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I didn’t mind! Yeah, it was a _little_ sad, but you make some interesting points. _And_! I learnt something new!”

Here she turns a baffled expression his way, which he meets with a grin. “I share a name with a god! How cool is that?!”

Orphea lets out a relieved sigh and as she goes to say something, a loud chiming noise goes off. Flushing, which is a lovely shade of pink against the pale skin she has, Orphea quickly digs into her grey purse, pulling out a ringing phone.

Checking the caller, she mutters, “Give me a second.” And answers.

To be polite he moves away, giving her a bit of space to talk. But in a room as empty as this one, he can hear the one-sided conversation easily.

“Yeah? Is everything okay?

...Yeah, I’m still at the museum, why?

. _..Is he okay!?_

...Oh. _Why didn’t you start with that?!_ You made me panic for a second there.

...Yeah I can pick him up, the walk isn’t too far. Should I meet you at your office?

...Okay, see you then! Bye.”

A quick tap and she hangs up. Still with her back turned he hears her mutter a couple of faint curses before turning back with a sheepish grin.

“I’ve got to go. My brother got out of school early and I have to pick him up.” She gives him a regretful look, which he mirrors back. He doesn’t want to end this interaction so shortly, and as he looks at the phone which is being stuffed back into her bag, he goes to ask for her number.

But-

“ _Nyx_!” They both turn at the shout of his name. It’s coming from a different entrance than he came through, one to their left. In the door way stands his missing friend, Libertus. The heavy set teen comes over, and he does, Orphea begins to take her leave, giving out apologies before quickly leaving with a last, charming smile and disappears out the way Libertus arrived.

She’s gone before he can even ask for her number, and Nyx stares forlornly at the empty door way.

“Who was she?” Libertus obliviously questions, obviously not reading the room. With a tsk, Nyx wacks him on the back of the head, annoyed at the lost chance of ever meeting her again.

Before they exit the gallery he looks back to see the name of Orphea’s favourite piece.

’ _Lover’s Last Embrace’_

**Author's Note:**

> It’s aphrodite. And the girl is albino, incase you were wondering at her very pale skin tone.
> 
> Now, I could’ve had Nyx run off after her, but that would ruin their second meeting.
> 
> I said 14 gods because you have the main 12, and then Hades and Persephone, which i count as also the main gods. 
> 
> Thank you for reading and I hope to continue this one day!  
> Comments and kudos!


End file.
